Too Late
by Dawn96
Summary: Would it be different, she wondered, if I had shown just a bit of hope? Bellatrix wonders about the past... had she shown a speck of love, would he at least come to brush her shoulder?


**Too Late**

**A/N: I know, I know- i've been away for too long, and i apologize! I have an excellent reason why i've been gone for quite sometime (no, i did not resurrect from the dead...) but, im afraid i'm going to have to keep it a secret for quite some time... but, you'll all know around June maybe, or ealier, if god wills it! Anyways, Read, Enjoy, Review! **

Bellatrix cocked her head to a side, staring with glazed eyes. She was t the Lestrange manor after what seemed almost a hundred years. Surprisingly, it was still intact even though it was forsaken for fourteen years. The dust was like snow- coating every corner, every curve…

The sitting room was coated with cobwebs and spiders, rodents that peaked from their holes, angered from intruders. She could hear the crickets inside the door frames, vibrating as she pressed her ear against the cold wood, listening to their creaks as she knew they would momentarily suffocate to death.

The crystals had ants stuck around them- inside them… like tiny drops of dark, dried blood. The wooden creaks on the earth were crusted with black tar which erupted like a volcano all over the floor. The windows were cracked and bats flew to their corners where they kept their young. The breeze brought in the slit curtains to shiver like ghosts, silently breathing coldness into the hostile environment.

She remembered the day when they had dragged them out of their house- when they had bound them to Azkaban- and eternal torture of insanity… a loss of humanity.

She remembered this house- before it was completely demolished by nature that had anger towards them. It was dark- colours of black, red and dark green- it lingered with shadows that were in every corner. It had creatures of the dark in every hole… a mystery in every crevice. She loved it- it was far better than her childhood house, where Andromeda made it seem as though it was a library, and Narcissa, a castle in a fairytale.

She took a few steps, feeling the intense coldness creep into her feet and coil around her bones. Her bedroom- the grand four-poster bed was gleaming as dust particles sank their fangs into it. Yet the shredded curtains slicked like the blood of the people she murdered… red, so pure, and black, so dry. The mattress was slashed, as the stuffing were filled with roaches and insects, each emitting their own sounds as they crept around… their antennas clicking as they fed on one another, ripping one another to shreds to satiate their hunger.

She remembered Rodolphus. Never appreciative of that man, she was… she never made him out to be anything in comparison to her. He was just a man whom she was arranged to marry and that was that. Arrangements did have love written in their pages, it just had name.

He tried everything to get her attention back then, gifts and jewels, spells and desire. But she had not succumbed to his ways, she never gave him any advantage. She didn't lust after him as he had to her, she lusted power. She swallowed it that she grew brighter than him, shunned him in the inferior ranks of the other death eaters, making him watch her as the Dark Lord whispered words of content in her ear.

But… she was sent to Azkaban. She was thrust into that hole of filth as she wondered… why hadn't he freed her? Why didn't her open the bars once he was resurrected? Why wait, playing his game of power while she had to rot in a cell to follow his game? Why not just her, then the rest, as he had often claimed her to be his most faithful- his most powerful assistant?

But… Rodolphus stayed. He waited- he did run out of Azkaban as the others did, not caring whom they left behind or which one of their comrades was still stuck behind bars. No. After all the times she had shunned him- after all the times she had hurt him, and made him inferior to her- after all the horrid moments she had put him through, he gave her the mercy of waiting.

He watched her ragged form stand up. Her bones shake as she moaned from her lack of movement for the past few years. He held out his ragged hand and she placed her calloused one in his. He pulled her up and looked straight up at the clear, dark sky.

She wondered, sat on the ground, her legs hugged by her thin arms, what did she do wrong? The dark lord had called her his most faithful, the best amongst his followers, a leader of his followers below him. She delighted as he ran his ice cold hand up and down her bare shoulders and back, she wanted to serve him, to be praised by that voice that held power and greatness… but, she couldn't say she loved him.

She knew that the Dark Lord knew nothing of love, no matter how many times she has given herself to him- no matter how many times she tried to show him that she held that love towards him, he would tell her to toughen up, and that he didn't want any of his followers to fall weak for idiocy and stupidity. It hurt her- she wouldn't show it, but it humiliated her as he denied her. Never in her life had she recieved such an answer, never had she been denied of everything. _She_ was the one who would do and get- but to be shunned away? In the back of her mind...

_Was that how Rodolphus felt... Had I been different before, would he..._

Either way, it was too late. He knew that there was nothing in her heart for him, so he gave up. He threw everything on the ground, all his trying and effort. There was nothing and he knew it. The wind blew colder and Bellatrix huddled into herself. She heard a sharp creak and whipped up to find the silhouette of a man.

"Bellatrix, come to the living room, its warmer there," he said, his voice shushed and quiet, not wanting to disturb her too much.

She looked up and nodded numbly, slowly lifting herself with shuddering arms. She faltered towards him, unsure. What was wrong with her? She shook her head and straightened up, looking at him straight at the eye. His gaze softened and he reached up to brush her shoulder, but thought against it, as he walked away.

Would it be different, she wondered, if I had shown just a bit of hope?

**AN:... review...**


End file.
